


let's go back to our cocoon

by arekiras



Series: it took me years to say the words that you did not even need said [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Autistic Alec Lightwood, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Ficlet, Gen, That's it, alec has a meltdown, autistic author, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekiras/pseuds/arekiras
Summary: Some days are worse than others. Some days, Alec just needs to be alone.Short peek into the life of the autistic Head of the New York Institute.





	let's go back to our cocoon

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the first in a series of fics detailing autistic Alec, written by an autistic person. There are precious few respectful autistic Alec fics out there, so I've decided to add to them, despite being worried about the response it might receive. Please feel welcome to leave feedback or hmu on tumblr with requests (@autisticalecs), but also remember that every autistic person is different and that this is a dear subject to me and a lot of autistic people in the fandom. <3

Alec’s brain is about to drip out of his ears. His soul is about to claw its way out of him through his mouth. He swears he can feel the breath of every person he passes on his skin, every word uttered is too much. Too loud. Overwhelming. His clothes, which were comfortable that morning, are itching him all over. 

He gets inside the elevator of Magnus’ apartment building and clicks the button for the penthouse. He slides down the wall and presses both his hands over his ears tightly, trying to hold his brain in and keep the noise out. The sound of his pounding pulse fills his head, but it’s comforting. Familiar. Entirely his own. On the way up he rocks back and forth slightly, focusing on his breathing and the steady rhythm he’s tapping against his head with his fingers until the elevator dings open and he has to get up. 

For the first time in his life Alec hopes Magnus isn’t home when he opens the door. Speech is definitely beyond him right now, and being confronted with someone talking to him won’t go well. But the loft is quiet when he enters and he breathes out a silent breath of relief. 

He takes his shoes off and hangs up his jacket, slowly, methodically, before he goes straight to the shower, stripping all of his clothes off and making the water lukewarm. The shower washes away a million phantom touches, course fabric and the memory of every texture he’s come into contact that day. He uses the least fragrant soap available, but still uses Magnus’ shampoo, the smell comforting. 

Momentarily Alec mourns the fact that he doesn’t have his own favorite sweat clothes at the loft with him, but then settles on some of Magnus’. The joggers are a little too short and the henley baggy, but they’re soft and non restricting and smell like Magnus. 

Alec momentarily surveys Magnus’ room before coming to a decision, switching off the lights and drawing the curtains, protecting his aching head from the sunshine. The comforter on the bed isn’t nearly as heavy as Alec’s weighted blanket at Institute, but it will have to do. He slides all the way under it, leaving the lower half of his face exposed so he can breathe and shuts his eyes, the world muffled by the thick blanket.

He abandoned the Institute just after lunch. Some days are like this, where he can’t even think because he’s so overwhelmed. Like the entire world is heaving but he’s the only one that can feel it. 

There’s not much for it, even things that might be comforting are too much. Too loud, too stimulating, too complicated. So he briefly wonders what he’ll tell Magnus, and then succumbs to his brain urging him to stop thinking at all. 


End file.
